She wore luxury but no peace
She spoke of me and cut deep
I cut free, had to flee
Had to feel joy for me
The abuse
is over
Cuz over and over I forgave
She said she loved me
But just lied to my face
And embraced
the pain from years and years
of fear
I had to go.
Because I love myself now.
She has to know
Her money can't keep me around.
Yesterday, I was by the water. Just sitting. Relaxing. Breathing.
It was overcast but warm—somehow 80 degrees—and the air was soft and kind, even by the harbor. I saw buses moving into the city and toward the casino. The Ferris wheel beside me turned slowly. Everything was in motion, but nothing felt rushed.
That’s new for me.
I’ve been moving fast for so long, I forgot what it felt like to slow down. To just be—not because everything is done, but because I choose to rest anyway. And yesterday? I chose. I had a paint and sip class scheduled to enjoy some creative time once I finished with the harbor view.
That stillness is luxury. Moments like those are power. Not the kind you buy—but the kind you carve out. The kind no one can hand you, but that you can claim for yourself.
And I thought—this is what I’ve been craving. Not perfection. Just peace. I’m 30 years old and finally learning what I should’ve been taught long ago:
Rest is not a reward. It’s a right.
And I deserve it.
Freedom doesn’t always look like escape. Sometimes it just looks like sitting beside a harbor, watching the world go by, and knowing you don’t have to race it.
Follow me on TikTok!
I want to reinvent myself.
It’s spring and I’m coming out of my winter depression/grief darkness. I’m tired of ordering Uber Eats and chugging down salty meals in my bed. I’m tired of sleeping in said bed, with no frame, when I still have the lightly used adjustable king bed of my mom. I’m tired of my stomach being bloated because I’m addicted to cheese and carbs. I’m tired of throwing out plants I inherited from Mom after they inevitably die. I’m tired of not liking anything in my wardrobe, and not shopping for new clothes because I order out too much and I haven’t seriously committed to exercise in almost a year. I’m tired of seeing red missed calls from the same people, people I haven’t spoken to since my depression hit last October.
I’m tired of my best friend telling me to go to therapy. I’m tired of making excuses for why I can’t go. I’m tired of “convincing” myself that I will feel better with more sleep or more food.
I have to make conscious changes if I want to improve the quality of my life. I cannot assume that things will get better on their own. Seasonal depression hits differently for me because it combines with grief to keep me in the darkness.
Life post-Mom can feel like a lemon much of the time, but I am the only one who can make it into lemonade.
There’s nothing wrong with spoiling yourself. I chatted with my therapist about my supposed shopping addiction. While she didn’t immediately agree that it’s my diagnosis, she noted the pattern in my recent purchases: they are all things that pamper me.
I guess I felt scared and lonely after the Mother’s Day incident and used money to comfort myself. For example, I got a relaxing deep tissue massage and my first Brazilian wax, along with cute summer dresses. It felt good to treat myself with dignity and love. Too many times we rely on others–or even social media–for our sense of self worth. It felt good to provide those things for myself.
On this Fourth of July, I won’t be at a cookout and I may not see fireworks, but I am going to do what pleases my soul. Stay safe and *Free Live!
*Free Live (v) – to partake in unplanned activities that promote personal wellbeing.
My most recent Free Livin’ involved randomly going to my local Muse Paintbar and attending one of their paint classes. I had a blast! I’ve always considered myself an artist and it felt like I’d reached heaven when I finished my last brush stroke. I’ll definitely go again!
Kee Grieves 